Jingle Bombs
by Swansandsparrows
Summary: Michael and Nikita attempt to celebrate Christmas. Things get out of hand. **Now complete!**
1. Chapter 1

**Jingle Bombs**

_Michael and Nikita attempt to celebrate Christmas. Things get out of hand. _

_A/N: I will update Forgetting Josephine and We Used to Wait in the next few days. Promise!_

_But first here's a seasonal piece. Enjoy! And Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all! :)_

**It was a fancy-smancy political soiree, **with a live orchestra playing Christmas tunes on the lawn of the lavishly decorated mansion that cost more than the income of a small country. Everything was infused with alcohol: the chocolate, the eggnog, the people...

Simply stated, it was a drunken bonanza in which Nikita had to fend off hordes of overweight politicians trying to make a pass at her. Michael _hated_ that part. Hated that he was stuck in the van, on Christmas eve, while others admired Nikita's lithe figure wrapped in that shiny red dress that had a hem that was the length of most of his t-shirts.

"Nikita, promise me I get you all to myself on Christmas," he mumbled over the microphone.

She chuckled darkly as she maneuvered her way through the crowd of people, searching for the target. "Oh, you have no idea the surprise I have planned for you," she teased. "I'll give you a hint: it involves me wearing heels – and nothing else." She smiled as she heard a strangled groan over the radio.

Michael banged his head a few times against the side of the van, trying to wipe the image out of mind so he could focus.

"Found Senator Grisham," Nikita said as she saw her target. The trim, athletic politician in a green pinstripe suit was Oversight, and Nikita and Michael needed him in their custody so that they could uncover the location of Oversight's next meeting.

"I can't find his private security. I'm guessing they probably passed out after all of that spiked Eggnog. You're clear to take him down."

Nikita reached into her beaded clutch purse for her tranquilizing gun, about to discreetly take down Grisham when –

"Ohmygod! I must know! Who are you wearing?"

A tall, lanky blond woman wearing a flowing white dress more suited for a romantic beach getaway than a holiday cocktail party appeared in front of her.

"Marc Jacobs," Nikita said offhandedly, looking past the woman at Senator Grisham. She couldn't lose sight of him.

"No way! I was going to get that dress, but then again I didn't want to upstage my husband's affair," the blond woman said.

Nikita's eyes snapped back to the woman. She couldn't be older than 22, if that. "Who is your husband?"

"Senator Grisham, of course," the blond who was apparently Mrs. Grisham said.

"Nikita, I'm going in. I'll grab the Senator. You keep his wife distracted," Michael said over the radio, glad for an excuse to

"Of course!" Nikita said, both for Michael's and Mrs. Grisham's benefit. "How could I forget. I saw you in the papers last week didn't I?" Nikita asked, steering her towards the refreshments and away from the Senator.

Michael slipped into the party, a glass vial in hand. He wore one of his signature suits, and when Nikita caught sight of him she couldn't help but admire him from across the room. God, she loved this man. He grabbed a platter of champagne, and dumped the contents of the vial into the glass.

"Drink, Senator?" he asked, handing the balding man

"Sure!" The man said.

"Oh, can you also come back to the kitchen for a moment, Senator? There's a problem with the food."

"Problem?" the Senator asked, but willingly followed Michael towards the kitchen. Suddenly, the drug kicked in and the Senator was out cold. Michael squeezed him into a catering cart, draped a white tablecloth over him, and wheeled him out to the parking lot.

"All clear," Michael said. "Try and keep people from going and looking for him until I verify his identity."

Nikita turned back to Mrs. Grisham, who continued to talk about some inane subject.

"I have no room in my closet for skeletons," Mrs. Grisham joked. "I have too many shoes!"

…

The Senator was tied up in the back of the van. Michael waved some smelling salts underneath his nose, and the Senator jolted awake.

"Listen, Senator, I know you're Oversight," Michael said darkly. The man looked around wildly.

"What? Over_what_?"

"Senator, we know what you're involved in. You can't deceive me. Where's the next meeting?"

Senator Grisham cringed away from Michael, shielding himself with his arms. "Please! Don't hurt me!"

"Senator, you get one chance!"

The man shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

Michael suddenly stood up. Something in the way this man behaved was off. Birkhoff said that Grisham was the Oversight member. He had assumed it was Senator Grisham.

But this man wasn't Oversight.

_His wife was._ And Mrs. Grisham and Nikita were still in the party together.

"Nikita!" he yelled over his mic. No response. Nikita would be caught by surprise: and being caught by surprise by a member of Oversight was perhaps the most lethal situation of all.

"Stay here," he said needlessly to the man tied up in the back of his van. Michael jumped out, slamming the doors, and darted toward the manor.

He hoped he wouldn't be too late.


	2. Chapter 2

**Jingle Bombs, Chapter 2**

_Michael and Nikita attempt to celebrate Christmas. Things get out of hand. _

"...And those are the dastardly fat cats my husband will be running against next election. They don't deserve a dime of their wealth, nor the election."

"Why did you invite them?" Nikita inquired, trying to keep her talking.

"You know, it's been great meeting you," Mrs. Grisham said, a strange gleam in her eye, "but I've got to find my husband. I've got some business to attend to." She scanned the crowd.

"Can't we talk for awhile longer? I'm sure your husband is busy at the moment entertaining the other guests," Nikita said, stepping in front of Mrs. Grisham's line of sight.

"Where's my husband? You know, don't you?" She said, suddenly cold and accusing. Her voice was growing progressively louder.

Damn. Nikita would have to keep her from alarming the other guests. "Don't worry Mrs. Grisham, I'll explain everything to you later," Nikita said, looking around the party at the unsuspecting guests. She hoped Michael would be quick with the interrogation. A senator couldn't be missing for too long without others finding out.

"Who are you? Can't you explain everything to me now?" she said, her voice raising a few octaves. A few of the partygoers looked over.

"Mrs. Grisham, stay calm," Nikita said, but the woman was only growing more agitated.

"No! I can't! Where is-"

Nikita grabbed her arm and led her up the stairs and away from the staring guests. She led Mrs. Grisham to an empty sitting room, pushing open the large oak door.

"Now, I need you to stay calm-" Nikita said, stepping into the room, when she heard a soft click of metal as a gun was cocked. Suddenly, realization swept over her, and she felt a growing sense of dread growing in the pit of her stomach.

"I think you're the one that needs to stay calm, _Nikita,_" the woman said, her tone cold and deadly. She shut the door and circled around Nikita. But Mrs. Grisham didn't just have a gun – she had a detonator in hand, also.

"You want to know why I invited my enemies tonight? So I could blow them all to hell. C4 in the walls. You're an added bonus: infamous rogue agent, unstoppable force. Until now." Mrs. Grisham lowered her gun and reached into her pocket for handcuffs. She pulled them out and tossed them to Nikita. "Cuff yourself to the bed."

"Kinky," Nikita said snidely, knowing that the moment the metal cuffs closed around her wrist she would never leave the house in time. She would die here.

"Do it," the woman said.

Slowly, Nikita took two sideways steps toward the bed. She saw Mrs. Grisham's arm holding the gun relax, and that was enough to make her move.

Nikita spun around, landing a kick in the woman's stomach. She stumbled backwards, and fired her gun wildly. The bullet grazed Nikita's shoulder. She cried out as the fiery pain shot up her shoulder.

Mrs. Grisham raised the gun again, but Nikita slapped it out of her hands. Nikita grabbed a nearby vase and, with one efficient swing, knocked the woman out. Nikita carefully pried the detonator out of Mrs. Grisham's lifeless fingers and darted out of the room.  
>The party devolved into frenetic chaos. The gunshots had security evacuating the wild, drunk crowd of frenzied guests. The bodyguards were looking for a shooter just as Nikita descended from the staircase, bloody and holding a gun and a detonator. She sprinted out a side exit, a hail of bullets chasing her out of the ballroom and out into the parking lot.<p>

Nikita stumbled out to the van, bleeding and limping. The guards were close behind, the shots still ringing in her ear: she needed to get to safety.

"Michael!" she cried out. "Start the van!" No reply. She dragged herself to the back of the van, her head spinning. She was losing so much blood. The world slipped from out under her.

She stumbled to the ground.

And dropped the detonator.


	3. Chapter 3

**Jingle Bombs, Chapter 3**

_Michael and Nikita attempt to celebrate Christmas. Things get out of hand. _

_Previously:_

_ She was losing so much blood. The world slipped from out under her._

_ She stumbled to the ground._

_ And dropped the detonator._

There was a brief silence, and Nikita held her breath. Suddenly, a crack through the open air, followed by the largest explosion she had ever seen. Pillars of fire, billowing smoke, the hottest heat she had ever experienced seemed to melt off a layer of skin.

But the physical destruction and worldly senses meant nothing compared to what she felt. She yanked open the doors to see Mr. Grisham, terrified and still tied up.

"Where is he? Where is Michael!" she demanded, fighting back hysterics.

"I think he went back to the house to find-"

"No," Nikita whispered, shaking her head. She grabbed the side of the van. Her legs couldn't hold her, anymore. She could feel her breath becoming shallow, and not just from the fact that she had lost a ridiculous amount of blood.

She could still hear the rumbling collapse of the building in the distance, paired with sirens. She managed to peel herself off the pavement with great effort, leaving behind a trail of blood as she stumbled over to the door of the van. But the door wouldn't open, and with one final struggle, she collapsed in the parking lot.

…

Nikita awoke to an unfamiliar smell. She sat upright in a strange bed, disoriented. Her arm was bandaged, her joints still stiff. She bolted out of bed. How did she get here? Slowly, she followed the mysterious smell, pushing open the bedroom door.

What she saw was unlike anything she'd witnessed in all of her years upon this unforgiving earth:

A Christmas tree with dozens of twinkling lights cast it's warm glow onto several brightly wrapped packages. The morning sunrise was just barely seeping in from behind the blinds. And the smell, that deliciously addictive smell, was coming from the counter, where a perfectly prepared breakfast of pastries and oatmeal awaited for her.

Tears sprung to her eyes. She had never celebrated Christmas before.

"...and that's why I hack into Amazon and place my order at the top of their shipping list because otherwise it take forever. Christmas shopping is a _bitch_. Especially on Christmas Eve."

Nikita heard a familiar voice. She looked down the hallway.

"Nerd?"

Birkhoff turned the corner. "Good morning, sunshine."

And right behind Birkhoff was the man she had come so close to losing.

"Michael!" She ran to him, jumping in his arms, her lips locking with his in a passionate kiss.

"Merry Christmas, Nikita," he murmured, his warm breath tickling her ear.

She looked into his eyes. "How did you...?"

"Not without some help. Face it, you kids would be dead without me," Birkhoff said, scrunching up his nose at the public displays of affection in his kitchen. I was able to warn him about the live C4 when I picked up the signals. So, how 'bout we unwrap some gifts?"

Birkhoff handed Michael and Nikita two colorfully wrapped packages.

"You guys are _sooo_ hard to buy for," he said.

Nikita laughed as she held up a shiny new semiautomatic. "Guns?"

Michael unwrapped several cases of ammunition. "Ammo? How Christmas-y."

"See! It's poetic!" Birkhoff exclaimed. "One can't work without the other. Oh, and I also got you guys some high-tech heatvision scopes. May all your year be filled with hits and no misses."

Nikita hugged Birkhoff. "Thanks, Nerd. But we didn't get you anything."

"Yes we did," Michael said quickly, and pulled out a white envelope and handed it to Birkhoff. "Courtesy of Ryan Fletcher."

Birkhoff eyed the envelope suspiciously. "A Company man got my gift? Is this bribery to keep me away from their systems?"

"Open it," Michael said with a smile.

Birkhoff slowly ripped open the envelope. On a piece of CIA Stationary were two lines of text: a username and a password.

"Holy terabytes, Batman!" Birkhoff exclaimed, his eyes as wide as olives. "Are these...?"

"Ryan managed to dig up an old password and username combo for the CIA's network, because you aren't skilled enough to hack in yourself without getting kicked out."

"You know what? You guys should get started on the food," Birkhoff said, his eyes alight with the possibilities of having unlimited access to the CIA's mainframe. "I'm gonna go test out this login real quick."

Michael smiled and snuck an arm around Nikita's waist. "And my gift to you is a real Christmas, for once," he said, motioning to the food, the Christmas music in the background, and the twinkling decorations. "Shall we feast?"

…

After the festivities, Michael and Nikita retired to their bedroom. Nikita cuddled up to Michael, her light fingers tracing his chiseled arms, her head resting on his warm chest.

"Michael, I'm sorry about everything – "

"Stop apolog – "

"Seriously, I wanted this Christmas to be special. And I insisted we try and get the next meeting location out of the Oversight member who was blown into a million pieces, which was a disaster. And I almost lost you. Again. On Christmas Eve." Her voice cracked. "This crusade – "

" – is what we were meant to do. Protect the innocent. Right the wrongs. You're right, maybe we should have taken a day off. Maybe we should take a _week_ off. But never mind if our plans changed a bit. The important thing is that you and I are here, safe, together." With that, he brushed his hand across her face, a finger tracing her jawline as he leaned in for a passionate kiss.

Suddenly remembering something, she pulled back. His eyes snapped open to see a mischievous smile as she spotted a pair of heels sticking out of her suitcase across the room.

"I almost forgot your gift," she said, and chuckled naughtily as she deftly jumped off of the bed, grabbing her heels and disappearing into the bathroom.

"You know, Birkhoff is still awake," Michael said. "Probably just on the other side of these walls – "

The bathroom door slid open, revealing a very much naked Nikita. Michael's eyes went wide. "And you know what? These walls a pretty thick," he amended.

"Merry Christmas, Michael," she said with a smile as she sauntered over to the bed.

"I love you, Nikita," he murmured, and took her in his arms.

_A/N: Happy holidays and thank you all for your lovely reviews! I hope your Christmas was a **little** less exciting than what happened to these wily Division assassins, but just as merry!_


End file.
